


The Sound of His Voice

by PeppermintTchaikovsky



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppermintTchaikovsky/pseuds/PeppermintTchaikovsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patroclus has always worn long sleeves in order to cover his soulmate tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of His Voice

Patroclus had always worn long sleeves. It was by no means his his choice. His parents made it very clear that no one could ever see his soulmate tattoo. They were the only people in the world who know that Achilles Peliades’ name was etched into his wrist.  
For years Patroclus did his best to ignore it and the questions that came with it, until his sophomore year of highschool when he transferred to Pythia Academy, a luxurious boarding school for the uber rich and the kids no one wanted anymore. Patroclus fit the bill perfectly. With the help of his father, he had hauled all of his belongings up to his new dorm. He was greeted by a small, skinny boy with a shock of red hair and broken glasses barely hanging on his face.  
“Hi, I’m Antilochus and I get to show you around for the next day.” The boy chirped. His voice was naturally high-pitched and his tone rose and fell like bird-song. His father left without a word, and he almost preferred it. The other boy didn’t mention it.  
“Thanks, I’m Patroclus, and by the looks of it, I’m going to need a ton of help.” He said.  
“Where are you from?” Antilochus asked, trying to make small talk.  
“Turkey.” Patroclus said as he started making his bed. He hated these types of conversations because it could eventually only mean one thing. The single topic everyone loved to talk about.  
“So, have you met your soulmate yet?” Antilochus asked. Patroclus cringed.  
“No.” He answered shortly.  
“That’s too bad, man. What’s the name?”  
“I’m not allowed to say.” Patroclus was suddenly acutely aware of how his voice shook and how awkward his accent sounded in comparison to Antilochus’s.  
“Ah well, each to their own I suppose.” He said, shrugging. Patroclus was relieved he didn’t push the matter farther. Antilochus looked at his watch.  
“Dinner is in two hours and I have rugby practice now, so I’ll be back in a few.” He said as he left the room. Patroclus giggled at the thought of Antilochus playing rugby, the idea of the gentle seeming boy playing rugby was amusing-- but soon he fell back into the grey mood which had been consuming him before.  
For almost an hour he fretted about his immediate future at Pythia. He was a transfer from Turkey with a strange accent who refused to talk to anyone about his soulmate. He would be singled out as an outlier within a week, he was sure. He mulled his situation over in his mind. Was it better to not talk to anyone about it soulmate, or was it better to let everyone know that he was destined to love another boy? He did not know for himself, but he did know to impassioned speeches that his father fed to him ever since he had the faintest concept of what a soulmate was, so he thought he knew the answer.  
After practice Antilochus raced back up to his room to grab Patroclus. When he opened the door he saw his new roommate lying on his back with his feet against the wall.  
“Dude, are you okay?” he asked.  
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Patroclus said. He mentally beat himself up as Antilochus led him to the dining hall. Now, not only was he the new type of strange that would wear off if he were lucky, but he was just strange.  
The food was decent and the other boys seemed nice enough. The girls that went to Pythia sat on the other side of the hall and rarely associated with the boys. After the hour was over, a bell rang.  
Antilochus nudged Patroclus’s elbow, “Headmaster Pleiades is about to speak,”  
“Pleiades?” Patroclus asked.  
“Yeah, his son is the captain of the track team,” Antilochus whispered back.  
“and his son’s name is?”  
“Achilles. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. He’s won a ton of national track meets for us and he’s won some big music award associated with the Wiener Phil for some harp piece he wrote.”  
Patroclus felt his heart flutter. He never imagined that his soulmate could be so amazing and talented. Then his heart sunk when he realised it was not as if it meant anything. It was all worthless since there was no way he could ever act. Perhaps, he wondered, Achilles had his name inscribed on his body and maybe he would act on perceived affections. Patroclus knew it was wishful thinking.  
After the announcements were over Antilochus lead him back to the room. Patroclus changed into sweatpant and an oversized sweatshirt, careful not to accidentally show Antilochus his tattoo. He could practically feel Antilochus prying but when he turned around he was lying on his bed reading the last of his summer reading book.  
Patroclus didn’t really sleep that night. He was too wrapped up in what everyone would say about him tomorrow.He decided it was best to only spoke if spoken to and to avoid small talk. Nothing had changed much from his childhood in Turkey. Even an entire continent away he could hear his father screaming at him to keep his arms covered and to never speak or else he’d be labeled a freak and an anomaly. He wished his father would shut up. He got the idea already.  
The next morning went by as if it were a flash of color and nothing more. Luckily, he shared a schedule with Antilochus so he was able to pull him from class to class without much struggle. English was the only class he struggled with. Much to his misfortune, it still too effort to not want to read and speak in Turkish. Therefore, he avoided people in general. This worked until he had to go to lunch.  
“So, I have chorus Mondays and Thursdays while you have lunch,” Antilochus explained. Patroclus only nodded in understanding.  
When Patroclus finally found his way to the dining hall there were no more seats readily available so he sat at a little two person table in the corner. Halfway through the hour someone decided to sit with him. He was about to tell him off but he was somewhat awestruck by the boy’s gold hair and brilliant eyes.  
“Mind if I sit here?” He asked  
Patroclus stammered for a second, “Sure,”  
“Name’s Achilles, by the way,” He said. Patroclus thought his voice sounded like running water. He wished, in vain, there would be a time where that voice would lull him to sleep.  
“I’m Patroclus,” he answered. He waited anxiously for Achilles to comment on his voice or his clothes or the fact his name was on that gorgeous body of his, but he didn’t.  
“So, what’s your next class?” Achilles asked.  
“German,” Patroclus cringed. The thought of learning another language made him physically ill.  
“Sweet, me too,” Achilles smiled. Patroclus tensed up and laced his fingers together. Of all the classes he could share with his soulmate it had to be the one class where he was most likely to embarrass himself. Not that it mattered, a voice yelled in the back of his head.  
Achilles looked as if he were going to say something but he was cut off by a tall, bony kid with overly gelled hair.  
“So, you two having fun?” He asked.His cronies laughed and it made Patroclus turn his head away.  
“Fuck off, Agamemnon.” Achilles growled.  
“Or you’ll call your daddy on me?” He said.  
“Try me. I can do worse than that,” He threatened. Agamemnon laughed and then walked away.  
“Hey, are you okay?” Achilles asked. Patroclus couldn’t hear him over Agamemnon’s voice still ringing in his ears. It sounded like gravel and his father.  
“Patroclus!” Achilles called. Patroclus broke out of his daydreams and realised that he was shaking. Achilles placed what Patroclus supposed to be a supportive hand on his shoulder.  
“Agamemnon’s opinions aren’t worth shit.” he said. Patroclus nodded and was about to speak when the bell rang.  
Life continued much in this vein for a week. Patroclus would go to his morning classes with Antilochus and then he’d eat with Achilles and anyone else who was interested. No one asked about the green hoodie he wore even when it was ninety degrees out and no one mentioned soul mates except Agamemnon. Achilles and Patroclus had grown to be close friends and even though they hadn’t known each other for very long, they were inseparable.  
Friday night was the first time Patroclus was alone in the dorm.  
“I’m going to the movies. Want to come?” Antilochus asked.  
“No thanks, I’ve got to study.” Patroclus said.  
“Oh, too bad.” Antilochus said and then he left and all was silent.  
Patroclus did actually study, though he was more concerned with Agamemnon than algorithms. He tried to focus on the textbook but he found his mind wandering. Primarily, he worried his father was right. All signs seemed to say so. what brought him out of his melancholic musings was a knocking at his door. Much to his surprise, Achilles was standing at his door in plaid pajama pants and a grey shirt.  
“Hey,” he said slowly, “Can I talk to you about something personal?”  
Patroclus tensed, “Sure,” he stammered. He knew exactly what was coming. Patroclus went and sat on his bed again while Achilles stood awkwardly near his lamp.  
“I’m sorry Agamemnon has been bugging you about me,” Achilles explained.  
“How is that your fault?” Patroclus asked. He figured Agamemnon’s near constant harassment was a result of his own awkwardness.  
“Well, when I was a kid there was a accident and I got a scar that made my soulmate tattoo completely illegible, so he uses that as an excuse to bother everyone and anyone I hang around with,” Achilles said. It was the first time that Patroclus saw Achilles as anything less than completely in control.  
“What a jerk,” Patroclus said lamely, but it made Achilles smile.  
“I don’t really know how to say this without sounding threatening but, I overheard him talking about making you tell who your soulmate was and I know you don’t like to mention it at all so I thought you might want to be prepared.”  
“Thanks,” Patroclus whispered, hoping Achilles wouldn’t notice the tears in his eyes.  
“I promise no matter what that I will protect you,” Achilles said  
“You won’t want to” Patroclus muttered underneath his breath. Achilles’ eyes widened and he reached for Patroclus’s hand but he pulled away. Patroclus could tell that Achilles was talking but he could only hear his father screaming at him for giving up his secret so easily.  
“Patroclus!” Achilles called.  
“Patroclus! I will always support you, tattoo, no tattoo, or marred tattoo because you are my friend first and foremost. If Agamemnon thinks he can take that away then he will be bitterly disappointed.”  
“Thanks,” Patroclus said weakly. This is it, he thought. This will be the last time anything will be normal between them and even this wasn’t normal.  
“I hope you sleep well and do well on the Algebra test tomorrow,” Achilles said awkwardly.  
“You too,” answered Patroclus.  
“Goodnight,” he said as he closed the door.  
“Goodnight,” Patroclus said to no one.  
It was not a good night. Patroclus had nightmares about Achilles and Agamemnon and all of his peers not wanting to speak with him ever again. He dreamt of his father and his voice, haunting and encompassing over his dreams, wrecking them. He woke up in a cold sweat.  
His day passed much like any other until lunch. Achilles and Patroclus sat in their usual corner and spoke of the usual things: classes, music, and sports. Achilles found out that Patroclus joined the fencing club and Patroclus found out that Achilles likes figs. For a moment Patroclus forgot to think of Agamemnon and his threat and he just managed to focus on how cute Achilles was. Then, Agamemnon walked up to their table beaming.  
“Hey Patroclus, let’s take a walk,” He sneered grabbing Patroclus’s elbow and pulling him away from Achilles. Patroclus gave him a look that was meant to scream, help me. Agamemnon dragged him to the courtyard where many students were gathered, eating their lunch in the sunshine. Patroclus broke out in a cold sweat and unfortunately Agamemnon noticed.  
“Are you hot Pat?” he asked loudly and theatrically.  
“No,” Patroclus whispered.  
“Because you could take your sweatshirt off and cool down a bit,” he continued. Agamemnon waited to hear how people reacted.  
“Stop being such an ass!” A girl yelled from the grass. Agamemnon ignored her.  
“Come on, Pat, take off the damned sweatshirt,” he sneered into Patroclus’s ear. Patroclus could see Achilles pushing through the crowd of people. Patroclus fought back with all his might but he couldn’t escape from Agamemnon. Finally, Agamemnon was able to see Patroclus’s wrist, his grip like hot metal--and Patroclus’s stomach dropped as he began laughing.  
With a dramatic flourish Agamemnon shouted, “It was Achilles! Achilles Peliades,” Patroclus turned to look at Achilles and he saw only wide grey eyes staring back at him. Then his work descended into chaos and voices  
He heard his father’s gravely tone screaming at him for being weak and a disgrace to the Menotiades family. He heard Antilochus’s voice, like a bird nagging him for not telling him sooner. He heard his teachers laughing at his misfortune. Finally he heard Achilles’ voice, once running water, now like waves battering his head and filling his ears and eyes and mouth with burning salt. Patroclus could see the water grow dark. And he couldn’t see. 

“Patroclus!” Achilles called his name and it shocked him out of his own delusions. Patroclus noticed that there was blood on Achilles’ hands and mouth.  
“I’m sorry,” Patroclus whispered.  
“For what? You didn’t do anything,” Achilles reasoned.  
Patroclus sniffled and rolled tighter in his blankets, which surprised him. He felt the mattress move as Achilles as on the edge of his bed. A tentative hand rested on his shoulder.  
“Agamemnon made what was the simplest thing, a big ordeal.” Achilles explained.  
“Now everyone thinks I’m a freak,” Patroclus whispered. Achilles’ eyes widened.  
“I don’t think youre a freak. No one thinks you’re a freak.”  
“What kind of boy wants to kiss other boys?”  
“Like half the boys in this school,” Achilles said, shocked.  
When Patroclus didn’t answer he continued, “Odysseus’s soulmate is Diomedes. Antilochus’s is Automedon’. It’s completely normal. Who ever told you that it’s not?”  
“My father. He said he’d disown me if anyone ever found out.” Patroclus muttered. Achilles was at a loss for words.  
“Well, we’ll never go back then. It could be just you and me to take on the world,” Achilles said.  
“So you’re not going to throw me away?”  
“Oh gods, no.”  
Patroclus smiled and Achilles grinned back and he had the overwhelming urge to put his lips to Achillles’.  
Achilles got the chance to speak first, “Can I kiss you. I’ve wanted to ever since I first talked to you.”  
“Sure,” Patroclus said. Achilles’ fingers gently brushed over Patroclus’s cheek and he gently pressed his lips against Patroclus’s. His lips were light and soft. Achilles grabbed Patroclus’s hand and twined their fingers. Patroclus leaned into the kiss and his passive shyness became the purest expression of his love. It was play, he knew, kissing Achilles. Years of being a freak were being chipped at, chipped away as Achilles bit his lip. Achilles tried to pulled away and Patroclus bit back playfully which made both of them laugh. Achilles nuzzled against Patroclus’s collarbone and Patroclus purred into his hair. Patroclus took Achilles’ cheek in his hand. He pressed a kiss to Achilles’ pale cheek and then his clavicle and shoulder. Achilles found Patroclus’s breath to feel like butterfly wing beats on his skin and it was delightful.  
Patroclus took Achilles head in both of his hands and kissed him once more with passion and fury. Achilles gently ran his fingers up Patroclus’s back so his arms were draped around his neck. Achilles and Patroclus have never been happier.  
“Will you sleep with me?” Patroclus asked sweetly.  
“I know we’re destined to be soulmates but don’t you think we should take this in steps,” Achilles said.  
Patroclus laughed softly, “I just mean sleep with me, till morning, here, in my bed,” Patroclus blushed.  
“You are such a dork. I love you,’ Achilles whispered  
“I love you too,” Patroclus whispered back.  
Achilles and Patroclus looked at each other before Patroclus turned the lights off. Achilles kissed Patroclus’s forehead before wrapping his arms around his waist. Patroclus grabbed Achilles’ hand and pressed his fingers to his lips before he fell asleep. Before Achilles followed him, he thought about Patroclus’s voice and how it rang like bells and glass marbles and how, when he was excited, it raced along like hummingbird heartbeats. He thought of how he sighed like forest mist and how, when he laughed it was as if he could hear the very wind in his voice.  
With a final sigh, Achilles pressed his nose into Patroclus’s dark curls and he dreamt of Patroclus and himself dancing under the stars, decked in white lillies and carnations. Nothing could have been more perfect.


End file.
